


"It's Because I'm His"

by FeralCreed



Series: WinterHawk Chronicles [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky rescued him with the team's help, Clint Barton Feels, Clint got kidnapped, Cuddling, Deaf Clint Barton, Feels, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Bucky Barnes, Rape Aftermath, h/c, torture aftermath, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6445696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralCreed/pseuds/FeralCreed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is running a mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. and is captured by a Middle Eastern branch of Hydra. Bucky wastes no time in rescuing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Agent Barnes, I know that this is hard to understand.” Fury's tone of voice makes it clear that he's about to lose his patience.

 

“Damn right it is!” Bucky snarls. They've been standing and yelling at each other for a good five minutes, but not much has become of it. Now that Bucky's even more furious, he's precariously close to poking Fury in the face with a metal finger. Somehow the director looks more composed than literally anyone else would with a very pissed off Winter Soldier brandishing his prosthetic weapon two inches from their nose.

 

“We're doing the best we can.” Fury glares at him. “I expect you know that.”

 

“Your 'best' isn't good enough. Clint's been missing, _for two fucking weeks_ , and the scraps of intel we have are almost exclusively the result of the Avengers' work. Just what have you and your people been doing to get him back?”

 

“The best we can,” Fury repeats, enunciating each word like he wants to strangle the man in front of him.

 

“Let me know if you decide to step up your game and manage to help your agent the way he deserves.” Bucky was done with this conversation before it started, but it's only now that he actually walks away. Fury is yelling at him, but Bucky blocks it out. If he has to talk for thirty more seconds, no matter who he's speaking with, someone is going to lose a body part. Which isn't the kind of thing he wants on his reports any more.

 

Clint would laugh if he heard that, if Bucky was complaining out loud and pestering his boyfriend to kiss things better. Well, if Clint had heard that, he wouldn't be god-knows-where having god-knows-what done to him. Bucky fought back a fresh wave of panic and grief. The one time that Clint really needed him, and where had Bucky been? Jumping through hoops and handling PR after a recent Avengers fight. The press just couldn't stop whining about the damage done when a team of superheroes were saving a city/state/country. Fucking bastards.

 

And the mission was supposed to be easy. Go to this unheard of small town in the Middle East and do some recon to figure out which group of bad guys were running things in the area. Fury's people had offered the use of a few of their agents, since they were trying to get back on the good side of the American military. Unfortunately, the entire team had been made up of junior agents. Except Clint, who had been sarcastic over getting babysitting duty for two full days. Then he'd been gone, giving Bucky a thorough if brief kiss, and a promise to be back within a week.

 

Communications from the region stopped within a few hours of Clint's team getting on the ground. It hadn't been totally unexpected, since the exact level of tech in the villains' base was unknown, and the inbound team might have had to black out their long range comms for a day or so. When the silence had stretched past three days, S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent a few local people to see what was up. The few bodies had all been identified as members of Clint's team.

 

Bucky had screamed at Fury for a solid thirty minutes. None of the Avengers had been inclined to stop him, given that Clint was their teammate as well. And they all knew what Clint was to Bucky, so they'd been more than happy to make Fury face the infuriated boyfriend. Protocols allowed any safe information regarding Clint's mission to be passed on to him, and Bucky had abused those protocols as much as he could in an effort to find out what was happening.

 

Still, as he'd angrily informed Fury, nearly everything they knew about Clint's current location and status was due to what the Avengers had done. Natasha had been uncaring of the repercussions of blowing a few covers and had blazed through the underground of network several countries trying to find anything she could. Sam and Rhodey had done the best they could through official military channels, but apparently America isn't cleared to be in that region, so their hands are tied. Tony had made the most of his impressive collection of tech and had managed to get a pretty good idea of where Clint was being held. Good enough that the Avengers were planning their own rescue mission if the officials weren't going to do anything themselves. And that is most certainly the case now.

 

“Rogers,” Steve answers when Bucky calls him. “When are we going?”

 

“Get the team assembled,” Bucky orders him. “I'm leaving as soon as I get my gear from the Tower and it doesn't fucking matter if I go on my own.”

 

Steve chuckles. “Like we'd let you. Clint's getting a full-scale rescue. I'll pass on the word. Anything else?”

 

“That's it, Steve. I'll be there within the hour.”

 

“I'll have the team and the Quinjet ready for you.” Steve hangs up without saying anything else.

 

Bucky pockets his phone and takes the stairs rather than the elevator. It's a long drive back to the Tower, especially with what he's going to do, but he deals with it as best he can. Which isn't too good, in all honesty, but that isn't the point. His gear is all laid out when he makes it to the right floor, and he's pretty sure that was Steve's idea. Jarvis informs him that the rest of the team is assembling in the hangar and that Tony is already starting pre-flight checks. They'll be ready for takeoff by the time Bucky joins them.

 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greets him a scant ten minutes later. When Bucky only brushes past him with a tense _Let's go_ , he doesn't seem to mind too much. After all, they're all angry with Fury's people and worried for Clint, and since Bucky argued with the director not two hours ago and is Clint's boyfriend, it's doubly hard for him. Especially since the remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D. are refusing to send an evac team without more info.

 

Well, that's what the Avengers are for. Tony has already gotten permission for them to take a direct, low flight path that will get them to where they need to be with the minimum amount of lost time. Or he just fabricated the necessary info and hacked into international flight servers. Either one would be plausible. As it is, the flight from New York to Uzbekistan is going to be almost fourteen hours. Bucky's half-certain he's going to be utterly mad by the time they touch down. If he is, he won't be the only one, at least.

 

The flight is far too long than it has any right to be. Still, Bucky isn't the only restless one. Natasha is giving almost visible vibes of cold fury, and the few words she uses are clipped and tense. Sam is also rigid, which makes Rhodey a little uneasy. Steve has been visibly worrying throughout the whole flight, and Tony can't seem to be able to keep his hands off any bit of tech that might help them pinpoint Clint's location. When they eat, it's deadly quiet, and Bucky is constantly reminded of the absence of a far-too-loud, far-too-cheery blond trying to steal his food at every other moment.

 

Finally, the Quinjet touches down at an air strip in Uzbekistan. Tony bought the place and grounded all other traffic in and out while they were en route, so it's mostly deserted except for the staff. A convoy of military-grade vehicles are ready and waiting for them, as well as a few units from the local law enforcement. It only takes a few minutes to make sure the Quinjet will be fully fueled and left alone while they're gone, and Tony's link with Jarvis via the Iron Man suit will make sure that they're ready to have wheels off the ground the moment they arrive at the airport.

 

Unfortunately, they're a good ninety minutes away from the vague area that Clint's most like in. And by 'vague', the team means a hundred square miles. Since they have the Falcon, War Machine, and Iron Man, at least they'll have a good chance at finding the base within an hour. The three of them get in the air, leaving the rest of the team to follow with their local backup. The base is likely to be fairly big, considering they kidnapped an Avenger two weeks ago and still have him. And it's likely to be a fairly bloody crater in the ground within twelve hours, taking the very same reasons into consideration.

 

“Stark, what do you have?” Bucky asks impatiently after about ten minutes of them being in the air. There are more people in the air than just him, but it's habit and Bucky doesn't try to correct it. He's stressed enough without trying to keep things inclusive. Not like anyone will blame him.

 

“Nothing yet, Barnes, I'm sorry.” Tony forgoes his usual teasing and innuendos when he talks about Clint with him. He's capable of being serious when he wants to, and this situation definitely calls for it. “I will let you know the second I think I see something.” Sam and Rhodey echoed the sentiment. “But hey, keep checking on us, okay? Make sure the comms are still working.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Bucky would usually get pissy about Stark saying something like that, but this is so different that he just doesn't want to. He knows that he could yell at Stark over the comms until someone took the earpiece away from him, and Tony would still help him, but it won't help anything. And he doesn't want to take the slightest risk that he'd distract Tony while he's in the air, even if Jarvis' interface is doing most of the work to scan for the base.

 

“Got something,” Sam pipes up a good twenty minutes later. “Decreasing elevation to evaluate the situation.”

 

Steve reaches to grab Bucky's hand, and the supersoldier's flesh fingers curl around his friend's. If this is it, then they're only minutes away from launching a full-scale assault on a Hydra base in the Middle East. The outcome is responsible for whether or not Clint lives. Bucky is undeniably on the verge of panicking, but Steve is helping. The blond has an arm around his shoulders in addition to holding his hand, and Bucky can't be bothered to do anything but lean into the touch a little and wait for more info from Sam.

 

“Yep, this is them,” Sam says, and he sounds a little breathless. Bucky would bet he's been shot at.

 

“Jarvis, lock onto coordinates and send it to the team,” Tony instantly orders. It only takes a couple seconds before the AI is relaying the coordinates to the Avengers. Natasha, who decided to drive, floors it with total disregard for the fact that neither the terrain nor the vehicle is conducive to racing safely. Her team cares as little as she does.

 

“We're gonna take care of the perimeter and outside guards for you guys,” Rhodey informs them. “Gonna leave the parking lot alone in case we need it. Tones, make sure we keep an eye on those cars. No stragglers allowed.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, Rhodes. I know that by now, thanks. Sam, we're coming in at your eight o'clock. Please don't shoot us.”

 

“We're coming in right behind you,” Natasha informs them. “ETA is seven minutes.”

 

“The base will be open and ready for you, m'dear,” Tony tells her.

 

By the time they finally arrive at the base, Bucky is fidgeting in his seat like a four-year-old. None of the others are any better. Still, he's the only one who scrambles out of the car before Nat even pumps the brakes. He jumps, rolling when he hit the ground, and is on his feet in seconds. Tony and the others get only a brief warning that he's incoming, and he disappears inside the base just before the others pour out of the car.

 

Hydra Hunting has always been a favourite pastime of the team. Especially once Bucky was with them, and they understood the society's intricate evils a little better. This is undoubtedly one of the bloodiest battles that they've fought, and even Bucky is almost tempted to call it a massacre. It doesn't take too long for the others to catch up with him, and they're all more ruthless than usual.

 

Tony and Bucky take the lead. Jarvis is a universal translator, which is the only way the Hydra base and the Avengers can communicate. If someone doesn't feel like talking, Bucky breaks something, waits for the screaming to die down, and asks again. Only a few minutes pass before they have explicit directions to the area of the base that Clint's being held in. As soon as he has the info, Bucky is gone, calmly murdering any Hydra agent that tries to stop him. He doesn't particularly care if his escape route gets cut off behind him, given that he has backup, and he soon leaves the others fairly far behind him.

 

Finally, he finds a row of cells. They contain a variety of prisoners, but Bucky doesn't even bother giving a second glance to any of them except for the few blond men. He makes some vague statement about help coming, waving behind him, and ignores their begging for him to release them. Clint is more important than the rest of the base put together. And so far, he's still missing. Something that Bucky very much disapproves of.

 

“Avenger,” one of the prisoners calls out in a heavily accented voice. “Fotosini odam.”

 

Bucky doesn't understand a word of Uzbek, but 'Avenger' is a universally English term. He bolts in the direction the woman's pointing. The lighting is a bit more unreliable in this area of the base, and while it's no doubt useful for fearmongering, it just irritates Bucky. Why the hell can't they get working lights around here? Just because he's going to put every one of these sons of bitches in a coffin doesn't mean he doesn't want to be able to see while doing it.

 

Clint is nowhere to be seen for several long minutes. And since he's deaf, yelling his name would do nothing but alert any potential guards that Bucky is coming for him. The next cell block consists of floor-to-ceiling metal doors, and he has to open each slot to see who's inside. It takes far too long, and the sight of the chains and instruments in some of them make him want to vomit. Hydra clearly still has a habit of torturing their prisoners. Most of them hold prisoners, a few are empty or only hold corpses.

 

He finally finds Clint near the end of the row. Even though the other man can't hear him, Bucky can't help saying his name and giving some rambling sentence about getting him out. Clint is chained to the wall facing away from the door, and judging by the way he's leaning against the wall, he's on the verge of passing out. Bucky doesn't have the patience to pick the lock, so he just rips it off the door with his metal arm. The door swings open and clocks him on the jaw, but it's worth it. If it broke the skin, it'll heal before the day's out.

 

It's obvious that Clint knows someone is coming in, even if he doesn't know who it is. He whimpers softly in the back of his throat, and the muscles of his arms tense, his fingers scraping across the edge of the manacles around his wrists. There's dried blood caking the restraints to his skin, and literally dozens of cuts and burns. Whatever Hydra did to him – and Bucky has a good idea from his own experiences – it's going to take a while to heal. Almost all the skin from his shoulders to his waist is bruised, and Bucky knows for a fact that there are broken bones somewhere.

 

“Clint, it's Bucky,” he says, putting his right hand on the back of the blond's shoulder. The man flinches away from Bucky's touch, unable to help a brief gasp of terror that he quickly stops by biting his lip. He ducks his head, refusing to look at Bucky, and shudders as Bucky pulls his hand back. He's obviously expecting to be struck, and Bucky is equal parts heartbroken and furious. Even though he wants to take the time to properly let Clint know he's safe and among friends, he doesn't want to see his boyfriend in chains a moment longer than necessary.

 

Bucky takes Clint's chin in his hand and tilts his face up and to the side. It takes Clint a moment to identify him, and his eyes are a little unfocused. When he recognizes Bucky, his eyes widen in an almost comical show of shock and relief. He sobs out a little noise that sounds like “Buck” and drops his forehead to the wall, body shaking from his tears. A lot has happened in the last two weeks, but he knows that Bucky coming equals an escape. Given what Hydra's done to him in the past, Bucky would never go to one of their bases unless he knew he could get back out.

 

Even though Clint can't hear him, Bucky murmurs a few quiet words as he digs through the pockets of his combat pants. He finds a small hard case and gently nudges Clint's shoulder as he flicks it open with his other hand. “Do you want your hearing aids?” he asks, displaying the contents of the case. Clint nods violently, then holds perfectly still as Bucky telegraphs each movement and carefully inserts a hearing aid. “Other side,” Bucky murmurs, before moving to put the other half of the pair on him. “Can you hear me?”

 

“Jesus, Buck,” Clint says, almost crying again. “I never thought I would.”

 

“I got you, sweetheart, I promise. Gonna get you out of these, okay?” Bucky has to pick the lock this time, because no way will he smash at something that's encasing the fragile bones of his boyfriend's wrist. When Bucky gets the first cuff open, Clint cries out when his arm moves but immediately does his best to muffle it. He whimpers when his other arm is freed, and slumps sideways into Bucky's embrace.

 

“M'sorry,” he mumbles, almost incoherent since he's slurring his words and speaking into Bucky's chest rather than talking clearly.

 

“Hey, baby, it's okay. I got you. Do you think there's anything broken in your arms?” Bucky wants to check for himself, but there's no way in hell he's going to be the first person to cause Clint any amount of pain this soon after getting him out of those chains.

 

“Th-they broke a couple fingers. Broke the fingers I use to shoot.” Clint sounds horrified but also detached, like he hasn't quite come to terms with that yet.

 

“We gotta go,” Bucky tells him, speaking slowly and clearly even though Clint has the hearing aids in. “Can you stand up?”

 

“Dunno,” Clint admits. He's shirtless and barefoot, and stripped to his boxers. There's not much Bucky can do about the fact that he's totally unprepared for combat.

 

“Here,” Bucky says. He shrugs out of the tactical vest he's wearing and puts it on Clint. It's a little heavy and it'll hurt against the bruises a little, but it'll protect him. “We gotta go. C'mon, baby, it's not too far. Got a five- or ten-minute walk and then you're free. But you gotta help me get you out, Clint. Please, _steaua mea_. Just help me get you home.”

 

“Home?” Clint repeats. The word catches his attention and he perks up a little. Bucky's heart aches at the sight, but he knows his Clint is capable enough to get out of this base if he has motivation.

 

“Yeah, babe. I'm taking you home. But only if I can get you out of here.”

 

“I can, I can do that. Gimme a gun and I can get outta here.”

 

Bucky can't help a fond smile. “That's my boy.” He presses a brief kiss to Clint's forehead and helps him stand. Even though he ditched the truck far earlier than he should have, he has a few pistols, and he hands one over. Despite the fact that Clint is capable of walking, Bucky ends up taking a good portion of his weight.

 

They're past the prison block and halfway down the corridor beyond when they finally run into an agent. He seems to come out of nowhere, thanks to the labyrinthine mess of tunnels, and Bucky has to almost drop Clint in order to keep him from getting hit. A few other agents follow the first, and Bucky orders Clint to stay behind him, almost as an afterthought, as he dives into hand-to-hand conflict.

 

“What kind of colour is that?” one of the agents asks, choking out a laugh. He's one of only two conscious men, and the last one that Bucky took down. Bucky and Clint both glance at him, puzzled. “Your shirt. Is that a boyfriend thing?” Despite the fact that his life depends on the mercy of the Winter Soldier, it's understandably puzzling that he's taunting them. “Do you like telling your little slut who he belongs to?”

 

Bucky's face goes from mildly quizzical to you-are-about-to-die in half a second, and he pulls the agent up by the front of his shirt until they're face to face. “You fucking idiot. It's because I'm his.” He has no qualms in knocking the agent unconscious, possibly killing him with the force of the blow but not caring. Clint is still holding up the wall behind him, and Bucky glances back at him, his expression softening a little. “I'm yours,” he repeats.

 

Clint swallows as he shifts, likely trying to hold back some sound of pain. “Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “Love you too, Bucky. Always.”

 

“Let's get out of here, huh?” Bucky motions for Clint to follow him and starts down the tunnel. His boyfriend isn't far behind him, keeping a solid watch on what's behind them. It doesn't take long for the rest of the Avengers to meet them. Even though Bucky already told them he had Clint, they obviously needed to see for themselves.

 

“Durak,” Natasha murmurs fondly. She rests her forehead against Clint's, her hand cupping the back of his neck, and lets out a short sigh of relief. When she steps back, she's as close to her normal self as she'll be until they have Clint in the safety of Avengers Tower. The others keep their hands to themselves but are vocal with their gratitude for Clint's safety.

 

“Tony, I have Clint, and we're coming out,” Bucky says. “Is the outside clear?”

 

“Say hello to the idiot,” Tony answers cheerfully. “I can fly him back to the Quinjet. Get his medical stuff straightened out while we wait for the others to catch up.”

 

“Clint, Tony's offering to fly you back to the Quinjet,” Bucky relays. “It's that or we drive you back.”

 

“I don't know, is Tony offering first class or coach? Sure, I'll fly.”

 

“Yeah, he'll do that.”

 

“Want me to fly you with him, Barnes?” Rhodey asks.

 

Bucky is supremely grateful that they brought Rhodey. “That would be fantastic,” he agrees, relief obvious. While the rest of the team continues their sweep through the base, Bucky guides Clint outside. Once they get there, Clint flinches away from the harsh desert light abusing his eyes, and Bucky lets him take his time. He stays at Clint's side, reassuring him and keeping a hand on his back or shoulder at all times. Eventually they make it outside, and Clint hands his pistol back to Bucky.

 

“Hey, brat,” Tony says, flipping up his faceplate. “Annoying to see you again. Glad you're in one piece. Ready for me to fly you back to the Quinjet?”

 

“Definitely,” Clint agrees. He offers Rhodey a tired smile, obviously trying his best to appear normal, and Bucky's hand tightens on his hip a little. “Let's get this show on the road, huh?”

 

The flight from the Hydra base to the airport is short, and far smoother than the drive would have been. Bucky instantly goes to Clint when they're on the ground, but he pauses just long enough to thank Tony and Rhodey for the ride before getting Clint to the Quinjet. Even though they brought Bruce, it was only because Clint's notorious hatred for medical would have been ten times worse than usual. Fortunately Bruce I'm-not-that-kind-of-doctor Banner had been willing to step in.

 

“You got him,” Bruce says, obviously pleased and relieved. “It's good to see you, Clint. Sit down, will you?”

 

Clint glances over at Bucky at the question, and the dark-haired soldier takes the initiative in guiding Clint down into a seat. Bruce doesn't even try to put a needle in him, instead handing over several bottles of water laced with a vitamin/mineral combo. He quietly tells them that there is food available if Clint manages to keep the water down and asks permission to do a quick checkup. Throughout the examination, Clint holds Bucky's hand tightly, holding back whimpers of pain whenever Bruce touches a particularly painful spot. In the end, Bruce splints his broken fingers and wraps his ribs before leaving him alone.

 

Bucky gets the bag someone had prepped and sets it down next to Clint. “Let's get you dressed, huh?” Clint's started shaking, probably from emotion as much as the cool interior temperature of the Quinjet. He lets Bucky dress him in a pair of grey sweatpants and an oversized purple sweater. There's half a dozen blankets available, and Clint makes vague grabby hands at a couple, letting Bucky drape them around his shoulders. When that's all done, he curls into Bucky's side and rests his forehead on the other man's shoulder. His breath hitches slightly but he works to make his breathing smooth, enough that Bucky notices.

 

“Clint?” Bucky asks softly. “Look at me, please? What's wrong?”

 

“They didn't know I was deaf,” Clint murmurs, clutching the blanket with one hand. The other worries at a spot on his pants until Bucky guides it away, folding both of his around it. “When they found my hearing aids, they thought they were a communications unit. Kept telling me to call my team in. Kept fucking hitting me to try to make me obey.”

 

“I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry.” Bucky has to fight to keep his voice steady, and he's not entirely successful. At least it's his heartbreak bleeding through, and not his anger toward Hydra. Clint's not in a place that would let him realize the anger wasn't directed at him.

 

Clint stares at him, looking vaguely hurt. “I-I wasn't important enough. For them to know. They didn't even bother to learn. Even though they kidnapped me, I wasn't important enough for them. And I wasn't important enough for them to listen to me.”

 

Bucky slips his free hand around Clint's shoulders and holds him close. “I'm so sorry, _privighetoarea mea_. But they're idiots. You're so important to me I was going to come here on my own to save you. And you're important enough to the team that they came here with me.”

 

“They're just pretending,” Clint tells him, like that's a totally plausible explanation.

 

“Sweetheart, nobody breaks international laws and invades a country because they're pretending. We all consider you a friend. And even if you don't trust that, you can trust that you are the most important person in the world to me. I promise.”

 

“What about Steve?” Clint's body language is a little more relaxed but he clearly still has doubts.

 

Bucky bites his lip and pulls Clint just a little closer. “I'd choose you over anyone else in this world, Clinton Francis Barton. You are more important than any of them. Promise.”

 

“Okay.” Clint seems perfectly content to leave things at that for now. His usual disregard for personal space is evident in the way he's clinging to Bucky, but neither one of them mind. They stay close together until the rest of the team joins them a couple hours later.

 

“Everyone here?” Tony asks, breezing through the Quinjet with his briefcase suit in hand. “Good, I'd hate to have to turn around halfway over the ocean. Jarvis, my favourite, my buddy, everything ready for departure?”

 

“Indeed, sir,” the AI answers. “Agents Barton and Barnes may wish to move to seats with seatbelts for takeoff.”

 

“Yeah, that would probably be best,” Bruce agrees when the two look to him. “Once we're settled, we can get Clint something to eat. He seems to be capable of keeping it down.”

 

Bucky stood up and walked Clint to the part of the plane that Jarvis had suggested they switch to. “I'll let you sit in my lap if you're good,” he teases lightly, brushing his fingers through the ends of the blond's hair.

 

“Nah, think I'm good,” Clint replies. It's a familiar, good-natured tone, but there's a subtle strain to it and his body language that tells Bucky differently.

 

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, wrapping a hand around Clint's elbow. Moving so his back is to the team, he signs the question so that the answer won't go beyond the two of them. Clint deserves to share it in his own time if Bucky's suspicions are true. _Did they rape you?_

 

Clint shrugs and glances away. “Not like I had much choice what happened.”

 

Bucky can't help but shift backward at the revelation. “Jesus,” he whispers. “Oh my god, Clint.”

 

“Wanna at least get me back to the Tower before you abandon me?” Clint mutters bitterly.

 

“I'm not leaving you, baby. Not unless you ask me to go.”

 

“Don't go,” Clint requests, looking almost childishly hopeful.

 

“Of course,” Bucky answers instantly. “Can I touch you?” When Clint nods, Bucky wraps him in a hug, burying his face in the crook of Clint's neck. “I love you, no matter what they did to you. Whatever you have to deal with, I'll be there for you. S'like I said, baby, I'm yours. Always.”

 

“I love you, Buck, I swear. Just can't do that.”

 

“Hey, if anyone understands, it's me. I'll keep you safe. And that means never asking you for anything you don't want to do. I mean, I already pissed off Nick Fury a couple times.”

 

Clint manages a short, shaky laugh and leans against him. “Gonna piss him off more when I tell him I'm out for a while.”

 

“Like I care. I'll go up against everything that's left of S.H.I.E.L.D. single handed if I need to. Tell 'em they can take it up with your boyfriend if they don't like you taking some time up.”

 

“Might just let you handle everything in the first place.”

 

“Just say the words. You ready to sit down? It's only for a few minutes.”

 

“Think I need to,” Clint confesses. He lets Bucky take him to his seat, instantly seeking Bucky's warmth once they're both sitting. Bucky hugs him as tightly as possible until they're in the air and he can take Clint back to the Quinjet's cargo hold. While they were preparing to rescue Clint, Stark equipped it with a queen sized mattress piled with about twenty blankets and twice as many pillows.

 

Bucky is careful as he helps Clint ease down into a sitting position. He lets Clint choose how they lay down together, never once attempting to change his mind or second guess him. They end up facing each other, Clint held securely in Bucky's arms with his breath tickling Bucky's neck and collarbone. Since it's a long flight, he takes his hearing aids out and trusts Bucky to keep him safe, leaning into the other man's touch and body. When Bruce brings him food, he eats, but only as he long as Bucky sits next to him and keeps an arm around his shoulders. And since Bucky is more than happy to do so, it all works out.

 

Maybe they're not perfect. And it's damn sure not easy. Bucky honestly doesn't know which of them will have the first nightmare about what happened to Clint. As long as they're together, though, as long as he can convince himself that his boyfriend is safe by holding him and reassuring him, they'll find a way to make it work. They're strong, they're resourceful, and above all, they love each other. Clint is Bucky's as much as Buck is Clint's, and they're both pretty okay with that. Bucky stays awake as Clint sleeps on the way home, careful and gentle with each touch, and the blond doesn't wake up until they touch down in New York and Bucky picks him up to carry him to their room. Even then, he's not awake for long before he passes out again in Bucky's arms, and he remains asleep as Bucky sets him down in bed and carefully resumes their position from the Quinjet.

 

They're not perfect and their relationship isn't easy. Neither one of them would trade it for the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky wakes up hours later to the sound of Clint's whimpers. “Clint, baby, hey,” he mumbles loudly, still a little disoriented from being asleep himself. He puts a hand on Clint's shoulder, making sure not to hold the man down as he startles into the waking world. A hand bats almost frantically at Bucky's wrist, and the dark-haired man pulls back.

 

Clint turns over on his side, frantic and disoriented. “B-Buck?” he stammers, his voice a little off key since he doesn't have his hearing aids in.

 

“Yeah, it's me.” Bucky speaks slowly, making sure Clint can read his lips. “How bad is it?” Given that he knows for a fact that Clint isn't okay, he doesn't bother with the standard question. Clint would probably claim to be all right, anyway.

 

“'S bad, but I'll be fine.”

 

“Want me to hold you?” Bucky asks, and they both know he won't condemn Clint's choice, regardless of what it is.

 

“Yes.” It's one word, almost absurdly quiet, but it's all Bucky needs.

 

“I got you, _inimă de Leu_. You're safe.” Bucky makes a point of telegraphing his movements and curls an arm around Clint's waist, his hand sliding up to cup the back of the blond's shoulder as Clint rests his forehead on Bucky's chest. “Gonna keep you safe, I promise.”

 

“Trust you,” Clint tells him, a little louder than normal. He can't hear to modulate his voice, but Bucky doesn't call him out on it. No matter how loudly or softly Clint wants to say it, Bucky is just glad that he's here to do so. And that he still wants to say it.

 

“Love you,” Bucky replies, signing the words as well.

 

Clint snorts. “Way to up the stakes, Barnes.”

 

“I know.” Bucky presses a kiss to the top of Clint's head, taking in a huge breath and letting it out. “An' I'm never gonna stop saying it.”

 

“Gonna wanna keep hearin' it.”

 

Bucky tightened his grip. “I promise.”

 

“Too tight.” Clint squirms a little and Bucky instantly loosens his embrace. He brushes a kiss to Clint's hair and murmurs a quiet apology. In return, the blond noses against his shirt and tries to make his breathing steadier.

 

Eventually they fall asleep again. Sometime during the night, Clint shoves his feet in between Bucky's calves, and Bucky grumbles at the sleeping man before he smiles a little. It's going to be a while before they achieve their former level of intimacy. However, Clint is more than worth the wait. Regardless of whether he's ever comfortable to have sex again – Bucky knows he's almost certainly overthinking things but he can't help it – his boyfriend will be waiting for him. God knows Clint has put up with enough of Bucky's problems over the last six months or so that they've been together.

 

Clint wakes up hours later, snuggling into Bucky's touch before he's even fully awake. Once he blinks enough times that his eyes focus, he smiles and looks at Bucky like the other man hung the moon. He mumbles a sleepy greeting before pressing his forehead against Bucky's chest. It seems like there's not going to be a lot of talking going on this morning, not that there ever is until an insane amount of coffee has been consumed. Still, this is quiet even for Clint, and Bucky has to fight the instinct to tighten his grip around his lover.

 

“You want me to get you coffee?” Bucky asks.

 

“Kinda just want to stay here, for now,” Clint tells him.

 

“Let's do that, then.” Usually Bucky isn't the kind to stay in bed for long, unless it's a bad day, but his routines can go to hell if Clint needs something. Medical will probably be whining to be allowed to look at him sometime today, but Bucky doesn't want to bring that up until he's at least fed him.

 

“Put my ear in?” Clint requests. Bucky nods and reaches for the case with Clint's hearing aids, putting one in on the side of his head not pressed against the pillows. They'll be able to talk freely now, at least.

 

They stay in bed for several hours after that. Bucky sends out a brief text letting everyone know that Clint is awake and functional before putting his phone on silent and setting it down on the nightstand. He doesn't bother grabbing anything to entertain himself. For now, he's just relieved to have Clint back with him. As long as his boyfriend is in their bed, and his arms, Bucky can scratch off the various mental images he's been torturing himself with. While Clint has a couple broken fingers and plenty of cuts and bruises, most of Bucky's worries are inapplicable by the very fact that Clint is alive, sane, and in possession of all his body parts.

 

Bucky ends up dozing, which isn't too much of a surprise considering the fact he's been running on caffeine and adrenaline for the past two weeks. And since Clint is indubitably safe in his boyfriend's arms, it's easier for Bucky to sleep. He still wakes up in a few hours, biting back the noises of fear and pain his nightmares always prompted. Most of the time, Bucky is totally or nearly silent when he dreams, by the simple reason that Hydra taught him the consequences of loudly sharing his fear.

 

“Hey, hey, Bucky, hey!” Clint taps his lover's forehead, raising an eyebrow when Bucky's head whips around. “You okay?”

 

“Do you remember me?” Bucky demands. “God, tell me you remember me.”

 

“Of course I remember you. James Barnes, you are the most important thing in my life. How the hell could I forget you?”

 

“I had a nightmare,” Bucky confesses, dropping his forehead to rest on Clint's collarbone. “That Hydra wiped you. Y-you didn't remember me, didn't remember that you loved me.”

 

Clint buries his fingers in Bucky's hair, carding through the dark, tangled strands. “They'd have to wipe me a dozen times before I managed to forget you. And I'd remember the moment I saw you. But hey, you saved me from Hydra, remember? Wore my colours with that purple shirt. You remember what you told that jackass, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky confirms. “Told him I was yours.”

 

“And I'm yours, baby. Gonna stick with you.”

 

“I was so scared,” Bucky chokes out. “That they could take me away from you so fast. That you could go back to being controlled. That I'd have to hurt you to get you back to safety.”

 

“Sweetheart, you didn't hurt me. You kept them from hurting me. The way you always promised. Bucky, you were there for me. When I needed you, you came. And I wasn't even making out with you.”

 

At that, Bucky can't help a small laugh. “You can make up for it if you're ever up to doing that again.”

 

“What is this 'if', Barnes?” Clint snorts and tugs Bucky closer, sliding a foot in between his boyfriend's ankles. “I'm just taking my time. You're too good to stay away from for long.”

 

“Take all the time you need,” Bucky tells him instantly. “And if you never want to have sex with me again, I can handle that. Whatever you want is all right.”

 

“Baby, chill. I want you. Okay? Right now, if I knew I could handle it, I would have you pinning me to the wall.” Clint rubs his thumb over Bucky's cheek. “The only thing stopping me is that I'd rather go without for months rather than risk any touch from your hand making me uncomfortable. Whatever you give me, I want to make sure I'll enjoy it. You're important to me and I don't want that to change in the slightest, consciously or not.”

 

“Yeah, okay, _soarele meu_. I trust you. And I love you.”

 

“Love you, too. As long as you feed me and give me coffee.”

 

“Our relationship is dependent on your caffeine levels?” Bucky asks, amused.

 

“Hey, you're the one who left me without coffee for this long.”

 

“Fine, fine. Do you want me to bring you to the coffee or the coffee to you?”

 

“I'm not staying hidden in bed just because I was kidnapped.” Clint huffs like that would have been an unreasonable reaction.

 

“Clint. You were tortured and raped by terrorists. Hide in bed all you want. Anybody who thinks they can call you out on it is sorely mistaken.”

 

“Sure, sure, I know the details. Cause I was there. But I don't want to act like such an invalid, Buck. I know this isn't something I can look past or ignore, but I don't want it changing everything. Just wanna try my best to make things at least a little normal. Please?”

 

“Ugh, you know how unfair it is for you to beg me for stuff while you're using puppy dog eyes.”

 

“But I also know it works,” Clint teases. “Please, Jimmy boy?”

 

“God, don't call me that.” Bucky laughs quietly and presses a brief kiss to Clint's lips. “Fine, I'll let you get out of bed.”

 

“Hey, I didn't panic when you kissed me. Do I get a reward?”

 

“Oh, shit, Clint, I'm sorry. I- Are you sure you're okay?”

 

“Baby, you're remarkable, intelligent, and intuitive. If something was wrong with me, you would know. You always know.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky admits. “I just... I worry. Cause I know what it feels like to be hurt like that and I'm scared I'll push too much and you won't tell me.”

 

“How did I get stuck with the idiot too noble for his own good?” Clint sounds fond as well as exasperated. “Bucky, I promise that if you do anything I dislike in the slightest, I'll scream like a horny teenager at a boy band concert.”

 

Bucky can't help a snort of laughter at that. “Fine, fine. You gonna help me make breakfast?”

 

“Dunno, am I allowed out of bed?”

 

“I'll carry you into the kitchen if you like.”

 

Clint raises an eyebrow. “Or I could get a shower while you start making my favourite breakfast.”

 

“Sure you won't need help staying upright on a slippery surface?”

 

“I don't know how well it would go if we were both naked together.”

 

“Then I'll keep my clothes on. I can put my tac pants back on if it would make you feel better.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“How often did they waterboard you?”

 

“I can't even remember.”

 

“Bath over shower, I think.”

 

“You're the expert.”

 

“C'mon.” Bucky helps Clint into the bathroom and sets him on the edge of the tub. “Get the water at the temp you want while I get changed and get you some clothes.” Once Clint nods in agreement, Bucky leaves him to it and goes back into the bedroom. He strips out of his sweatpants and puts on a pair of his tactical pants, belt and all. If doing so will put Clint at ease, he's all for it. After dressing himself, he rifles through his clothes until he finds what he needs and carries it back into the bathroom.

 

He makes plenty of noise as he walks back into the bathroom. “Gonna be okay with helping you undress?”

 

“Were you?”

 

“At this stage of my recovery, I didn't know I had a name, much less that I was allowed to do anything for myself or refuse what Steve told me to do.”

 

“Try and find out?” Clint suggests.

 

“You better tell me the moment you start feeling uncomfortable.” Bucky waits for an answer before he carefully takes off Clint's shirt. He pauses for a moment before sliding his boyfriend's sweatpants further down his hips, each move gentle but cautious. While Clint's fine with his sweatpants being removed, his fingers wrap around Bucky's wrist at the first and slightest attempt at his boxers being taken off. “This'll work perfectly, darling,” Bucky reassures him.

 

It takes a minute for Clint to be at ease in the tub. There's only a few inches of water in it, since Bucky does not want to take any chance that Clint freaks out during a bath. No way will Bucky try to make him take a shower and have water hitting his head for a good month at least. Bucky rims the tub with towels, doubling the amount where Clint's laying back against the porcelain. He wets a washcloth in hot water and starts wiping his boyfriend down, telling Clint what he's doing even though he telegraphs his movements. He keeps his hands between the blond's shoulders and hips, handing over a fresh cloth so Clint can scrub his face and neck clean.

 

“Done?” Bucky asks. When Clint nods in acquiescence, Bucky pulls the plug of the tub and guides a hand under his elbow to help him stand. As Clint stands on the bath mat, Bucky wraps a towel around his shoulders and starts drying him off. “Gotta change all the way, babe. You can do that yourself, all right?”

 

“Sure,” Clint agrees. He turns away from Bucky as he pulls his boxers down, and keeps the towel wrapped around his waist until Bucky hands over a clean pair. Bucky keeps a hand between his shoulderblades to steady him as he pulls on a pair of well-worn sweatpants, then sets about gathering up the towels as Clint pulls on the oversized hoodie.

 

“You good?” Bucky asks.

 

“For now,” Clint agrees. The hoodie is Bucky's as is obvious by the Army logo across the back and the scent of it. It helps that Clint feels like he's being given a hug by his boyfriend even when said boyfriend is not actually touching him. And the sweatpants are think enough to be warm but comfortably worn. “Got my eyes?”

 

“Yep.” Bucky unfolds the frame of a pair of black-rimmed glasses and slides the earpieces in place. Clint pokes the nosepiece until it slides far up enough his nose to be comfortable and smiles at him. He wasn't joking when he told Fury that he saw better from a difference; for anything close range, he needs glasses to be able to see. While Bucky considers it hilarious that world-renowned long-range sniper Hawkey needs glasses, he's never teased him about it.

 

Clint grins at him, his hands in his lap and his fingers barely peeking out from the sleeves of the hoodie. Bucky can't help smiling back and folds his hands over his boyfriend's. For a moment, Clint just sits there, but then he leans in to whisper in Bucky's ear. “All right, Barnes. Where's my coffee?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this work is officially the first part of a series centered around WinterHawk. Anyone want to suggest a name for aforementioned series? I don't name well.

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing WinterHawk. This is totally Jay's fault (hope you enjoy). I might add an epilogue, dunno, anyone have thoughts on that? Kudos and comments always appreciated, especially constructive criticism.


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